


Soft

by little_miss_anglerfish



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is horny n frustrated, Body Image, Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Insecurity, Love Confessions, M/M, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, no beta we die like men, this is a hot mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_miss_anglerfish/pseuds/little_miss_anglerfish
Summary: Angels are supposed to be perfect in every way.Aziraphale is painfully aware that he isn't.





	Soft

The Bible made angels sound so magnificent. Aziraphale had scoured the text a thousand times over. _Eyes like flames. Bodies like topaz. Skin like polished bronze. Voices that sounded of multitudes._ It was a vague enough description to illicit wonder, awe, and no small amount of fear in the devoted. But Aziraphale did not see a bit of himself in those words. It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did; his true form was a sight to behold, all shimmering light and too many eyes to count. His physical body, however, left much to be desired. He was _underwhelming_ for an angel of the Lord -- he looked more like someone's old English professor, not the former Guardian of the East Gate. He hadn't seen any action in battle since medieval times; war was such a ghastly business, and he found it much more satisfying to provide aid from the sidelines. Aziraphale generally only gave his physical body notice when the time came for a bit of a fashion upgrade (though, admittedly, he was always a little behind in the times). Even then, the padding that had begun to cling to his middle and hips hardly even registered. 

He should've expected Gabriel to say something, the prick. Heaven's greatest drill sergeant, with a stick jammed permanently up his arse. Of _course_ Gabriel took notice; it wasn't like Aziraphale was a great soldier to begin with, seeing as he gave away his divinely assigned weapon barely a week after receiving it. It must've tickled Gabriel to no end, watching as Aziraphale stumbled about and went soft, right in front of him. The archangel played with him like a cat played with a mouse, before devouring it. 

"We do have a certain... _image_ to maintain, you realize," Gabriel had said once, during one of his many unannounced visits amidst the whole Antichrist debacle. "It would be appreciated if you played the part." His voice did not contain multitudes in its human form, but the way his cold smile did not reach his dark eyes was message enough: _don't fuck this up_. But he knew Aziraphale would. He must've known. Angels were supposed to be perfect, second only to God herself. They were also supposed to follow orders.

Aziraphale was not perfect. Stopping the Apocalypse had felt good -- hell, it felt _amazing_ to go directly against the Great Plan  -- but afterwards? That was a whole other mess. At least Hell gave Not-Crowley a trial, as unfair and biased as it was. But Heaven had simply lit the hellfire and said "alright, off you pop, then. Shut your _stupid mouth_ and die already". Aziraphale wanted to be surprised by their cruelty when Crowley told him, but he wasn't; it saddened him, yes, because he had hoped that perhaps there was some scrap of mercy left within his brethren. But they really were just as bad as the demons they claimed to fight against. 

Once it was all said and done, and Heaven and Hell were frightened enough to leave them well enough alone, Aziraphale was more than happy to move in with Crowley at the South Downs Cottage. It was exhilarating, being so close to his demon, calling him in from the garden instead of having to call him on the phone. Domestic life suited them far more than they'd imagined it would. Within two months, the cottage was filled with plants and books, and at last it truly started to feel lived in. The feeling of love that encompassed Tadfield seemed to sharpen at the front gate, though Aziraphale had no idea why. 

He and Crowley spent their days having picnics and taking walks and generally enjoying each other's company without having to look over their shoulders. But as their friendship mended itself after the Not-Quite-End-of-the-World, there was the distinct feeling that something was being left unsaid. It hung heavily in the air when they would get drunk together, but neither seemed willing to put it to words. Aziraphale tried to distract himself with reading, knitting, and a spot of cooking, but inevitably he'd catch a glimpse of his reflection and suddenly it was as if Gabriel was still there, breathing down his neck. 

 _Fraternizing with a demon_ , Gabriel said one night, as Aziraphale finished brushing his teeth. _Just when I thought you couldn't be any more pathetic. You really think he wants you around? How do you know he's not playing the long con with you?_

Six thousand years seemed like a long time to be conning someone, but then again, Aziraphale wasn't an expert on such things. Crowley wouldn't do that to him, though; not after everything they'd been through. Surely Crowley wanted him around, or else why would he have suggested they move in together?

 _He could turn on you in an instant._ In Aziraphale's mind, Gabriel's voice did contain multitudes, and it echoed cruelly. _And what would you do if he did? You're not a soldier anymore. You're sentimental. Soft. You wouldn't be able to kill him even if it meant saving yourself. Not that you're worth much more than him anyway._

Aziraphale stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and willed the voice to leave him be. But his eyes stung. He was without direction; there were no books about what to do once you've averted the End Times and alienated your entire side. Never in his life had Aziraphale felt so lost. He shuffled into his bedroom, just across the hall from Crowley's, and sat numbly on the edge of the bed. It felt like he was teetering, and as he stared down at his stubby, manicured fingers and the wide curve of his belly, the heat built behind his eyes. What was he, if he wasn't a soldier? If he didn't have his bookshop? If he couldn't even bring himself to tell Crowley...

 _He could do so much better than you._ It wasn't Gabriel this time; Aziraphale looked at himself in the window, a sorry excuse for an angel in outdated pajamas. _He probably pities you. What's he got to lose if he's already Fallen? Think of how they'd revere him if he managed to tempt an angel. Might as well just give in and get it over with._ Somehow, it was worse when it was his own voice saying those things. A sob threatened to loose itself from Aziraphale's chest. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Angel?" 

That voice. The one that had plagued him for millennia and drove him wild with something he was too afraid to name. He felt Crowley's presence in the doorway but couldn't bring himself to look up. How had he ended up on the floor? 

"Aziraphale! What's wrong? Are you alright?" Concern replaced Crowley's usual act of indifference. "Are you hurt?"

 _Yes, damn it all, I'm hurt_ , Aziraphale thought, but he merely shook his head. "I'm quite alright," he heard himself say. "Just...stood up too quickly, I suppose." 

It may have been a convincing lie, if not for the fact that Crowley was a demon and rather attuned to recognizing people's bluffs. "Bullshit. Something's bothering you." He took off his glasses, and Aziraphale knew he couldn't escape then. "Tell me, angel." 

Crowley was kneeling beside him, and Aziraphale was suddenly acutely aware of the space their bodies took up in the room. He tried to curl into himself. "It's nothing. I was just thinking."

"Thinking too much, I'd reckon." Crowley searched Aziraphale's face. "I want to help you. Let me help you." The words came out so quietly, so gently, and all at once Aziraphale felt something burst inside of him, and then he was crying. Great, heaving sobs erupted from his chest. He hadn't cried so hard since the second World War. Crowley immediately pulled the angel into his arms, cradling him as if he would break. "It's alright, angel. You're safe. _We're_ safe." Long fingers slid through Aziraphale's hair and he shuddered. His stomach was pressed against Crowley's, and it made him feel uneasy. 

"I can't...I'm not..." Aziraphale struggled to speak between gasps. It was almost as bad as when he was drunk. "I can't keep _doing_ this."

"Doing what?"

Aziraphale pushed away from Crowley's embrace, and the hurt that crossed the demon's face nearly broke him all over again. "I suppose this is some kind of game to you? I'll admit, six thousand years is a long time to keep up appearances, but it's worth it to see me fail, isn't it?"

Crowley blinked at him. "What in heaven are you talking about?"

"Oh, please," Aziraphale said, with more venom than he truly meant. "I should've seen it sooner, but I was so bloody _sentimental._ You hardly had to do anything, did you? You knew I'd...that we would..." He forced down another sob, and it burned in his chest like hellfire. "I can't believe how stupid I was. To think that you would _ever_ feel the same way as I did. Add this to the list of sins I've committed." 

The demon, to his credit, merely stared. 

Aziraphale took a deep, shaking breath. "Well. I suppose there's only one thing left to do." He grabbed ahold of Crowley's lapels and all but smashed their mouths together. As far as first kisses go, it wasn't nearly as sweet as Aziraphale had always imagined. He could taste the salt of his own tears, and he could've sworn he heard Crowley moan softly. When he pulled away, lips tingling, Crowley still said nothing. "Alright," Aziraphale said, quietly. "It's done, then. You can tell them you've tempted an angel. Maybe that will spare you from any more of their wrath. Go - Sat - _Someone_ knows that Heaven will be glad to see me gone, so you won't hear any complaints from Up There." Aziraphale released his hold, slumping against the side of the bed. His head was spinning.

"Oh. Oh, angel." Cool, gentle hands reached out to cup his face. Aziraphale flinched, but didn't pull away again. "What did they do to you?"

Aziraphale laughed bitterly. "It wasn't Heaven, dear. Not entirely." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I won't fight it. Just...let it be quick." There was a moment's pause. Then, a brush of lips on his cheek. 

"I'm not going to kill you," Crowley said, his voice breaking. "Why would you ever think that?"

"Because." Aziraphale struggled to repress the trembling in his words. "Because I believed -- believe -- that you could never love me." 

Crowley inhaled sharply. "Because I'm a demon?"

"Because I'm not _worthy_ of your love. Because why else would you stay with me after all this time if it wasn't for some...political maneuver?" 

Crowley shook his head slowly. "No. Angel, _please_ tell me you're not that oblivious." 

Aziraphale frowned at him. "What do you mean?" 

"I mean," Crowley raised his eyebrows. "I _mean_ that I love you too, you big oaf. I've spent all this time thinking _you_ didn't love _me_." 

"Oh," said Aziraphale. It came out more as a breath than a word. 

"Yeah, 'oh' is right, because you're the most radiant being in the entire cosmos and I'm the one having to explain to you that you're beautiful!" Crowley ran a hand through his hair. "Gabriel did this, didn't he? Made you feel inferior, that git." The demon lifted Aziraphale's chin to look him in the eye. "I could snog you for a thousand years and it still wouldn't be enough." He started peppering kisses over the angel's cheeks, jaw, and neck, slowly moving down. His hands splayed over the wide expanse of Aziraphale's stomach. "Just let me show you how worthy you are, love. Let me prove it to you."

A surge of love filled Aziraphale's being, and all at once he understood. "Oh, dear..." he whispered, wrapping his arms around Crowley like a lifeline. Their second kiss radiated like a halo, and from there, Aziraphale knew it was only going to get sweeter.

  


  


  



End file.
